


A Working Girl

by deanandsam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Impala POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 15:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanandsam/pseuds/deanandsam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little tag to "Provenance".</p><p>The Winchesters park the Impala among the expensive cars in the auction house lot, but the snobby jerks insult her.<br/>The Impala's POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Working Girl

The Winchesters drove into the parking lot of the auction house, and swung the classic car's heavy steel body into an empty space between two of the 'royals' of the car world, a Ferrari and a Porsche.

 

Her boys had work to do, the Impala mused. Their business was killing evil and hunting things. She was the proud third member of the team and their only true home.  
It was true she didn't provide cooking facilities but certainly Dean had never seen that as a problem!

She chuckled at the thought of him trying to cook ham and eggs on her seats, but then it was true that he'd used them for almost everything else, so...!

 

She watched as the brothers got out and made their way into the showroom.

She always kept an eye out for them, for if anyone could find a shark in a glass of water it would be her two kids!

They had the luck of the Winchesters all right, a pity it was all bad!

No matter, those boys made her proud, and how they loved her. Yep, she was the luckiest Impala in the whole universe.

 

She sat there waiting quietly, lost in her pleasant thoughts, until she was disturbed by an exaggerated sniff from the spotless gleaming red Ferrari to her right.

"What sort of people are they letting in nowadays?" it commented. "I didn't think they allowed just any old trash to park here"

"So true," replied the equally gleaming Porsche at the other side, looking down its nose at her.

"I didn't think we'd be forced to fraternise with such common old bangers in a high class joint like this".

 

I won't give them the satisfaction of an answer, the Impala fumed, simmering in anger. Stuck up bitches that they are!

 

But the Ferrari continued unperturbed. "Yuck, smell the petrol and oil fumes venting off her and just look at the dust on her bodywork; her owner obviously doesn't care enough about her to even give her a wash now and then."

That does it! the Impala decided. Those morons can jeer at me all they want but if they insult my boys, especially Dean who couldn't be more attentive to my needs, they're asking for it. So what if I am a bit dusty today. Sam and Dean have been too busy investigating strange deaths, to wash me.

 

"What a pair of stuck up old bags you are," she answered heatedly.

"I'm a working girl, not like you two kept women who do nothing else but sit around and get polished up all day. I do something useful with my time, like helping my boys to save people; but what would you two worthless pieces of metalwork know about that?"

 

"Well, what do you know," jeered the Porsche. "The old girl has a temper!"

"You better believe it," the Impala answered. "Tell me this. What would your owners do if you had a collision with a ten-ton truck and were reduced to a mass of torn metal? Eh?"

"What a silly question. I'd go to scrap and my owner would buy a new car, but that will never happen; my owner drives very carefully," bragged the Ferrari.

 

"Well, douche bags, it happened to me, and what did my owners do? They didn't trash me, but Dean rebuilt me bit by bit until I was better than new, and do you know why he did that?  
He did it because he loves me, and he carried out all the work himself too!  
Do any of your owners love you enough to do that? To spend weeks on end just dedicating themselves to you heart and soul?"

 

The cars didn't answer because they knew they weren't loved by their owners, but mere status symbols to show off their riches, and the moment they were fed up with the colour, or when a new model came on the market they'd be sold without a moment's regret.

No one would ever love them as the Impala's owner loved her.

 

The flashy cars both shut up and watched as the two young men strolled back smiling to the Impala's doors, and wondered just what it would feel like to be loved as passionately as the old black car was.

The end


End file.
